Bradford lass recently returned from living in Rome. Rediscovering Yorkshire, searching for a decent coffee.

When it rains in Rome …

So, it was going to be a “Spring is here!” smug blog about how I went out this morning into the Roman sunshine without my coat buttoned up (my spring coat at that because I’ve dispensed with the winter one). I was going to mention that it’s snowing in parts of Bradford. But then the heavens opened and now I’m listening to the sound of torrential, persistent rain of a type that no umbrella, shoe or coat can withstand. After just five minutes of the deluge, Roman drains are overflowing, cobbled streets become ankle deep streams and umbrella sellers miraculously appear like angels to save the fools who thought it might be a passing shower. Italians tend not to go out in the rain. It seems a bit feeble to the uninitiated foreigner. And then you try it. But not for long.

6 o’clock this evening. Look at the size of the raindrops!

And that’s what you get for being smug. As a Yorkshire lass I should know better.